"Joanna, yes. The... Goat Knight, fittingly enough," she says with a small smile, scraping a hoof back across the ground in demonstration. Fauns and satyrs are similar enough that it's a little bit funny, she can't lie.

She takes a seat, encouraged enough by the warm greeting, and considers Rory for a second. "Now, please, correct me if I'm wrong... but I think that I recognize you. And not in the same way as our, uh, celebrity over there."

Somewhere in the distance, Terrence may be pouring champagne at this very moment.